Lost in the Fire // Things I Miss // LowePro Pro Trekker 400

I’m piecing life back together one item at a time. It is a process that is more tedious than I care to explain, yet I am super thankful that everything has worked out. The most difficult part is that life, like a river, continues to flow, and so I float along trying my best to row, while putting the puzzle back together. I was able to eddy out in Bozeman just long enough to catch my breath and hug my family and closest friends.

For those in the dark, I lost the vast majority of my belongings in a cabin fire about 6 weeks ago. I sometimes ask myself, what do I miss the most? Well, it’s not my LowePro Pro Trekker 400, but instead my Bolivian textile blanket. The deep blue intricately woven llama throw that often lay under my sleeping pad, was used as a make shift yoga mat, curtain, blanket, table cloth, towel, dresser, or airport meditation cushion during the past 3 years, making any location feel like home. It was just a piece of fabric but represented so much more; a period of time, a past adventure, a reminder to venture out of my comfort zone and know that I could be at home anywhere in the world. It’s the unique irreplaceable things that are the most difficult to let go of.

However my Lowe Pro Camera Backpack is a close second to that textile throw, partially because it was full of all the precious equipment that allows me manipulate light into expressions of creativity and beauty. If I had been there when the fire started, and could have run in to grab one thing, it would have been my Lowe Pro pack.

I used the LowePro Pro Trekker 400 primarily for travel photography this past fall in Churchill, Manitoba working with Polar Bears International. It was the ideal kit for carrying all of my media needs including a Canon 7D, Canon 100-400 F4.5, Canon 24-105 F4, Sigma 17-50 F2.8, a small Giotto tripod and ball head,Novoflex classic ball head, Canon Intervalometer, Cokin grad filter set, polarizer, extra batteries, extra memory cards, Apple Mac Book Pro Retina, Charger, four 1.5 TB hard drives, compact flash card reader, multi tool, wrench, water bottle, warm layer, gloves, hat, and snacks.

The Pro Trekker 400 was my portable office, the perfect travelling companion, keeping my tools organized and accessible whether photographing beluga whales in the Churchill River at sunset or boarding a Tundra Buggy to assist in documenting the Western Hudson Bay Polar Bear Migration. Those who know me will attest that I am a kind of a tidy heidi. Everything has to have a place, and if it doesn’t it has to go. This pack provided a streamlined solution for travelling with all my photo necessities.

I was enthusiastic to see how the Pro Trekker worked for my mountain pursuits. I had the opportunity to shoot skiing with it at Bridger Bowl in early January and was pleasantly surprised with its functionality and versatility in the mountain environment. I had to get a little creative with my safety equipment needed for skiing. The front lap top pocket worked for my shovel blade and I made space inside the main compartment for the shovel handle and probe as well as a few extra layers, and snacks. My smaller water bottle fits well in either of the side zipper pockets. Having space for an extra body and lens proved worthy as I could set up one camera with a small tripod and I could shoot hand held photos with the other. I later passed a camera off to a good friend and fellow photographer Graeme MacPherson who assisted in shooting. It was nice to have room for the extra gear and feel that it was well protected and concealed during my own powdery descent.

Matt Shortland dropping the knee at Bridger Bowl

Although I no longer have the Pro Trekker 400, nor the contents it contained (typing that phrase makes my chest sink), I look forward to replacing it as soon as possible.

Living with less has been an extremely refreshing experience. I drove home from Alaska 10 days ago and had enough space to fully lounge out and sleep in the back of my car! That has never happened before!

Flames can consume the tangible things in life, but they can never destroy memories. I will never lose the moments, the experiences, the friendships, or the hugs. Each day of life is an experience, and that is the only thing we get to keep with us, always.

A Grain of Sand in a Great Land

What a month. The last three weeks have been brutally emotional & intense. At the same time, it puts other tragedies into perspective. There are so many people in the world that have struggles that must be so overwhelming and seemingly insurmountable in comparison.

It started with a night of dancing at the infamous P Bar in Haines. Dancing saved our lives, literally. At 2:30 in the morning I got a phone call from Sylvia that our Cabin was on fire. I didn’t believe her at first. When we got there a charred skeleton remained, nothing more. I had two bicycles on the porch that were completely incinerated. Nothing but the disc brakes and chain links were left. I couldn’t really comprehend the fiscal blow my life had just taken.

The warmth and love the community extended was unbelievable. The following day Elly and I stopped by the Shtumpa house. Jess and Meredith routed through their closets and came up with a pile of clothes for us. Robert ran into his room and emerged with a beautiful scarf and sweatpants. Eric re-heated a few slices of homemade pizza and we received big hugs from everyone. As we left the house and slid into the seats of my car (which thank goodness was not parked next to the cabin) I looked at Elly, “There is a different caliber of people here.” “OH Yeah…” she responded in agreement. The following days the love poured in. Boxes of clothes showed up, gift certificates to the grocery store, hugs, tooth brushes, cards. Not that I think my community of people in Montana wouldn’t have been supportive, but my parents are there, there is always someone to fall back on, somewhere to go. Life is a lot more difficult up here, and everyone knows it. With out the support of the community, life here can be brutally rough when shit goes down. Everyone has been extremely supportive. I cannot sufficiently express my gratitude.

Two weeks and 12 hours later we lost a beloved friend and guide in the mountains.

Cab; exceptional guide, extraordinary person. He always made me laugh and gave the best hugs. He will live on forever in our memories.

There is really not much more to be said. It’s been a very sad week. I’ve given and received a lot of hugs. I’d like to thank those of you who have extended your comforting words and friendship. It means a lot.

The mountains are more powerful than we are capable of comprehending. Our only chance of safely playing in them is to strive to learn their language, and listen keenly, at all times. In order to coexist in such a delicate environment we must always be open to feeling energy and responding according to our instincts, particularly the instincts that cannot be logically deduced or formed into thoughts. That is what makes mountain people.

We are but a grain of sand. And if you hold on too tight it will slip through your hand.

So now I get to start fresh, living with extra appreciation and awareness. Moving forward with clarity.

Quote of the day: “There’s not much more to life than bacon and raspberries.” Or at least that’s what my dad said this afternoon. He gives the best advice.

Northbound Once Again

There is something special about the north. It lures me closer and closer, farther and farther. Perhaps it is the magnetic nature of the pole or some sort to cosmic draw of northern light. So once again, I made my way to Bellingham and boarded the Alaska Ferry bound for Haines.

Some Orcas came to say hello and danced along the inside passage. Their savage nature disguised by their beauty as we watched safely from the deck of the Ferry.

One of the things that strikes me most in South East Alaska, is the remote nature of the settlements. Brian put it best, “Shit’s different up here.” Everything is a little more difficult. Food and supplies arrive atop massive barges. It is best to plan your grocery shopping accordingly.

The silence, solitude, and wilderness are the reward for embracing the difficulties that northern life brings. And for those willing to make the sacrifice, the reward is great.

We met some lovely folks on the ferry and had a memorable jam session that lasted well past the sunset on the deck of the solarium. These encounters remind me of all the incredible people in the world. There are wonderful people surrounding you every day, you just have to be open enough to embrace them.

 Alysa & Brian are two colorful characters that call Haines home. Alysa’s soothing country twang & Brians mandolin plucking skills are enough to soften the soul. A few passengers cozied up in the solarium and requested a lullaby. Alysa & Brian delivered, and cheerfully strummed on. Their company was a treat.

Gypsy Life in Germany

I was thrilled to have the opportunity to spend some time with Norbert in Germany before heading back to the great white north. What an incredible experience. I wish I had a little more time to write about my experiences there, but a little eye candy will have to suffice. Thanks for the adventures Norbert, I look forward to many more in the future.

Churchill Reflections Part 3

Snow softly fell as the sun rose over the southern horizon. The sky was gray and bland, but an excitement stirred amongst the great white bears as they frolicked in one of their most cherished substances: snow. The first significant snow of the season blanketed the tundra. After three to four months of a snow-free tundra, the polar bears rubbed and rolled in delight, cleaning their fur and enjoying the cool sensations.

After Leadership Camp 2012 ended, our first week of Tundra Connections began. When I was first brought into the PBI family I had a difficult time grasping exactly what Tundra Connections was. BJ, head of field operations for PBI, would explain that we did live webcasts from the tundra, but it was hard to image what that really meant, and how it actually materialized.

Read more at polarbearsinternational.org

Churchill Reflections Part 2

Colorful lichens and mosses decorated the tundra as September quickly turned to October. Larch trees held on to their last orange needles. Arctic foxes and hares could be spotted from a great distance, looking out of place in their sub-arctic home. Beluga whales were spotted in the mouth of the Churchill River nearly every day. It seemed hard to imagine that the lush, vivid environment I first experienced would soon become a vast frozen landscape in which only the most resilient of creatures could survive.

If there is one skill that I honed as a volunteer for PBI in Churchill it is the ability to roll-with-the-punches…

Read more on polarbearsinternational.org

Churchill Reflections Part 1

An adobe fireplace flickered in the corner as I snuggled up on my grandparents’ couch over the holidays. My toes were comfortably nuzzled into my slippers from the Arctic Trading Post in Churchill, Manitoba. These slippers are one of my most cherished possessions. I take them with me wherever I go.

We flipped through a few photos from the fall. It has been just over a month since I returned from Churchill, where I volunteered for six weeks with Polar Bears International.

We paused. My grandmother asked, “So, of all the places you’ve been recently, which was your favorite?”

My face contorted into puzzled wrinkles. “I can’t pick a favorite… they’re all so different.”

Another pause. “Well… actually, Churchill. Definitely Churchill.”

Read more on polarbearsinternational.org